


No Time For This

by secondhandact



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Quadrant Confusion, Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-13
Updated: 2012-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-09 21:00:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secondhandact/pseuds/secondhandact
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The dreams are beautiful, and you wish you could lose yourself in them. Sometimes, you wonder if their pristine perfection is why they're impossible - because nothing that amazing could ever come true.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Time For This

_It's just a dream._

He's ghosting kisses over your flesh, and you're humming with approval, because he feels almost as delicious as he smells, flushed and tantalizing and satin-soft. You imagine velvet, the exact flavor of a rich, sanguine-hued wine, and you purr. The sound is echoed in his throat and your fingers are tracing his thrumming throat, finding his pulse and shivering because it's the same as yours. He knows where to touch, how to make you shiver, and there are promises of unspoken dreams made real whispered into your ear, the soft litany of phrases broken by sighs colored with pleasure, the sounds themselves full of tantalizing treats. Music to every sense you have left.

_It's just a dream, and sometimes, you spend hours on it, reliving every second, exploring yourself in echoed patterns of where you think he would touch._

He loves you, and he says so a thousand times before you give in to him, and it's all you've ever wanted. When you tell him so he laughs and you could lose yourself in the sound of him happy.

_When you find your peak, it's his name on your lips. Every time. But it's just a dream, it has to be just be a dream, because --_

When he dies, it's in a glorious splatter of tangerine and licorice, and the cherry flavor of his ichor is all over you. He takes the blade meant for you and it comes for you anyway, and there's blueberry spearmint mixing with the bright red, and everything goes dark.

_It's just a dream, and no matter where in time it starts, it always ends the same:_

He goes down fighting, just like you knew he would. He always goes down with your name on his lips, like you're the tragic heroes in some great Alternian romance. Except you're not heroes, not in these futures. You're just tragic.

_Once upon a time, it wasn't a dream. But it's too late for that._

Lately, every possibility you've envisioned where you've decided to continue to indulge your flushed fixation on Karkat Vantas, every time you've tried to consider waiting for him to realize where you stand, every single one ends in bloodshed, in his body at your feet and the scent of his ichor flooding your nostrils. He fights for what he believes in, and if what he believes in is you, he fights for you and you alone. The rest of the world is nothing when set next to the pure intensity of Karkat's single-mindedness in regards to whoever his matesprit might be fated to be.

_It's just a dream._

And it always will be.  
  
  
  
  


So you don't tell him, you don't wait. You let him think you've moved on, and the first time you come across the two of them curled around each other, it's easy to hide the teal on your cheeks, because by then he isn't watching you anymore, he really has moved on, and you've let him go. There's nothing in your blind sight that indicates doom sprouting from this, and you let it be. They don't notice you enter the room. They don't notice when you leave. You never should have been there in the first place.

When you return to your hive, you dream again, and this time, his name on your lips is a choked sob, and there is no momentary bliss where you can pretend that everything is as you want them to be.

You wonder how long you'll mourn the loss of what you never had, wonder if you'll spend the rest of your life dreaming about him. When you rest that morning, the dream comes without you summoning it. You wake up gasping and cursing, and the fact that you're alone when you could feel his arms so solidly only seconds before leaves you cold.

_Sometimes, when you dream, there are visions of him that love you, and every one is dead._

There is no future that allows for the two of you.

There was once, but now there never will be again.


End file.
